


Partners in Space

by PhobyLee



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Family Bonding, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Ford Pines is a Good Brother, Ford Pines' Portal Adventures, Gen, Protective Stan Pines, Stan Pines Goes Through The Portal, Stan Pines is a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26242336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhobyLee/pseuds/PhobyLee
Summary: After an unexpected call from his twin brother, Stan finds himself in a bigger pickle than he can even grasp. A massive fight and a horrible accident ends up stranding them in a totally different dimension. Not only is he trapped with his twin in uncharted territory(for most humans, at least), but he has no clue how they're going to get back home. Ford is different than Stan remembers, and it's slow going getting used to each other's company. Hopefully they can pull it together long enough to survive.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Uncharted Lands

The wintery air sent chills down his spine, even through the crimson winter coat that he held on his back. He could almost hear his own teeth chattering, causing him to curse in segments under his breath. Oregon was far colder than it was in New Mexico. He had traveled so far for this. The pavement and loose snow squelching underneath his boots, the crunch of the thin ice that had once been a large puddle, they weren't comforting enough.

Stan made a shivering huff as he reached the wooden cabin door. He already knew who would be waiting on the other side. It didn't make anything any better though, even if it was family. Stanley hadn't seen his brother in about a decade now. As he raised his hand toward the door, he was hesitant to knock. 

"Well, here goes nothing, Stanley. He's your brother, you'll be just fine."  
He quickly gave it a knock, and it slowly opened. To his surprise, he was met face to face with the lethal end of a crossbow. Stan's heart skipped a beat that moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing escaped his tongue.

"Who are you?! Who sent you? Are you here to steal my eyes?!" A harsh voice hissed, to Stanley's surprise. That was Stanford, alright. He'd gotten a lot more... urgent, to say the least. Stan lifted his gloved hands, attempting to-- 

"Stanley?" 

Nevermind. He didn't have to do that. "Yeah, warm welcome, huh?" Stan said bitterly, his heart finally slowing its rapid pace as the crossbow was lowered.

Stanford stood there, watching his younger twin brother in silence before taking him inside. As a scientist living in the midst of crazy, he had the right to be a little paranoid, even if that meant he was on the brink of insanity himself.

"Come inside, and hurry." Ford demanded, quickly shutting the door once Stan had entered. He quickly took a small flashlight and checked Stan's eyes, causing the poor man to shift uncomfortably and pull away.   
"Hey, cut that out! You're such a weirdo sometimes!" Stan quipped, rubbing at his eyes as Stanford backed off. 

"Stanley," Ford started, slowly placing the tiny, pen-sized flashlight back into his pocket. "I have to show you something important. You probably won't believe me, but trust me! I-- I've made a grave mistake and I need your help." 

"Trust me, whatever this is, I'll understand. Not like I haven't seen worse. Whatever's makin' you so crazy ain't no match for Stan Pines. Crazy town? No damn match." Stan looked almost confident, though deep down the awkward air between the two made him feel close to throwing up. He followed his brother down the hall and flinched when Ford stopped him in his tracks. 

"Wait," Ford murmured, taking a wary peek down the staircase first. It smelled like motor oil and burnt rubber down there, and maybe a hint of spicy, toxic material. It made Stan gag, but Ford didn't acknowledge it.   
"I was making sure nobody was down there. You have no idea the types of things I've seen here. Follow me." 

Stan noticed he was holding his breath ever since he was stopped, exhaling a breath of relief as he followed Ford downstairs, and eventually, into the elevator. The two sat in silence for a while, and it was making poor Stan more and more uncomfortable. 

"Long time no see," Stan tried, giving his brother a glance. Stanford still hadn't looked. His glare was stone cold at the door, waiting for it to open.   
"Ah, forget it."

____2 months later..____

Stan took a sharp breath as his eyes snapped open. He had no clue how long he was out, but he was lying down on.... straw? It felt like straw, but softer and less pointy. The familiar chitter chatter of his brother echoed nearby, seemingly already deep in conversation with another voice he couldn't quite recognize. But at that moment, he was too disoriented to even know what was being said at all.

With a slow and painful pop, Stan sat upright and his head knocked against the wooden support beams of a wall which hung close overhead. That meant wherever he was, it must have been old, or maybe a barn of some sort. The wood gave way easily and collapsed behind him on his poorly-made bed of straw, high enough to keep his body leveled.

"Ack, what the hell?" Stan groaned, rubbing at his eyes harshly. Whatever sleep had been left in his body had been snatched right out of him from the blow, even if it wasn't enough to injure him much.

"You're awake." Ford glanced over. He was standing near the entrance of the barn, holding a few buckets and a box under his foot. "I just got finished talking to the farmer and grabbing supplies. You wouldn't believe it! So after our fight, we were both pushed into the interdimensional portal and sent here through a rift, just like I theorized. Apparently the people here are from a completely different planet? I've never even heard of it.. Anginda?" 

"I have no idea what you just said," Stan groaned, still trying to get his body right. He pushed the other dangling beam away from his head, slipping off of the hay with a heavy thud. He was too dizzy to realize his boots had been removed, leaving only the grey wool socks underneath. "but why are we in some weird old barn, and how long have I been asleep?" 

"We've been out in deep space for months, according to the townsfolk. They've been nice enough to fill me in, even let us sleep here. You took a pretty hard blow to the head, Stanley. You've been out for days, and I'd imagine you probably temporarily lost your memory from the impact." Ford looked almost concerned, though he was still somewhat frustrated. Now they were both so far from home and there was almost nothing they could do about it, but that 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 was nothing he couldn't work around. Ford was stubborn; that's one thing he and Stan shared. Both were stubborn, hardheaded, and didn't like taking no for an answer. 

"No kidding," Stan sneered, rubbing at the back of his aching head as he continued on, "So we're on another planet and you're completely fine with it? What are we breathing?" 

"Oxygen, obviously. Most of the creatures here are carbon-based like us and take in oxygen to survive. Backbone, hair, skin tissue, all made of carbon. It's an Earth-like planet, though all of the life here is.. You'll see." Ford shook his shoulders a little, trying not to start rambling 𝘵𝘰𝘰 much. "According to my sources, there's still a way for us to get around. I've been lucky enough to find English-speakers here to explain how travel works, but it would help if I could build a translator, maybe even a tracker for--"

"Stop, I don't want to hear that nerd mouth of yours with my head hurting so bad." Stan shook his hands quickly, slowly walking over to Ford. Stanford was a bit frustrated with being interrupted so much, but he eventually reached down in the box at his foot and lifted up what looked like an apple... or maybe an orange? It kind of looked like a pear or an apple, or even a banana. Stan honestly had no clue what it was, and his look of disgust was enough confirmation. 

"What in the living hell is that?" Stan cocked a brow, receiving a slight chuckle in response from Ford.

"It's just fruit, Stan, calm down. It's very high in nutrition and minerals, and it may not be the best tasting, but it'll give you about as much energy as coffee does. You need that right now, you know, since we're gonna be preparing for our trip soon." 

"Our.. Trip?" 

"Of course, Stanley. We're leaving at dawn."

___7 months later...___

It had been nine months now since their arrival, and since then, the two made progress not only with travel, but with other things as well. Stan and Ford had grown a lot closer along the way and even referred to each other as partners in crime(progress was progress, not perfect). All was going well. It was Tuesday, and as usual, the two were hunting for food. A few rabbit-like creatures, small with mouse-like tails and fangs like a snake. That's what they had their sights on now. If they caught both, then they'd have enough meat for their journey. 

Ford had finally finished his tracker to make their lives easier. It was a decent design, easily mistaken for a wrist watch if you weren't looking close enough. He waited for Stan on a rock, trying to get a read on the nearest opening. 

Raising his gun, Stan waited for the perfect shot. The weapon he held was powerful enough to take out the two Grovals (a nickname Ford had given the strange rabbit-like beings) with one shot, but that was only if they were close enough together. Otherwise one would be startled and dart off into the dark purple grass, scamper off into the woods. It was much harder to find them there, even if the trees were made of some slimy material, covered in vines that slithered and hung close to the ground like snakes. It was terrifying, and Stan swore he could see eyes peering back at him from the treetops at times. 

Stan waited and waited until eventually he made his shot. The two small Grovals were zapped and killed almost immediately, though their bodies still writhed disgustingly in place. Stanley blew against the barrel of the gun, smoke steaming across his satisfied grin. Then he lifted up his prize, his fingers wrapped snug around the foot of the larger, fatter creature.   
"Dinner's served, Sixer!" He called and his brother looked up from his rock. 

"You got them both?" Ford almost beamed, clapping his six-fingered hands together. He was always so proud to see his younger twin hunting so well, even though he knew Stan was far better at survival than he'd ever be. Stan had mentioned something about hunting pigeons once...  
"This is great! A few days of meat. All we need now is to find a stream and we'll be all set. The canteens should be able to last us a while once we fill them up." 

The two Grovals were stuffed away in Ford's backpack for safe keeping, and the two young men were off searching for a stream. The soft clank of shifting metal echoed from Stan's direction, and he lifted a few metal fingers to warn Ford to stop. He had lost them in a fight with a Nolxuk, a bear-like creature with multiple eyes, a face that splitted open and six tongues, ready to engulf you and swallow you whole. Of course, the two overpowered it, but not without consequences. Ford had scars, and Stan was left with mere finger nubs which Ford had taken the time to replace by creating robotic ones instead.

"Wait," Stan murmured, pulling his gun from its holster again. Ford simply waited and listened, watching ahead. The stream was there, resting on a hill in a clearing. But Stan wasn't looking at the stream. 

"Is that what I think that is?" Ford asked in a quiet voice. 

"That's a city."   
Stan's eyes narrowed and his breath picked up. A city was good and bad news. Not only would passersby recognize their faces from their wanted posters (Stan and Ford were well-known to say the least, mainly for stealing from officers and raiding government locations for parts, building and stealing weapons), but people meant they weren't alone. It would be even more trouble sneaking past them, because according to Ford's tracker, the nearest rift was in that very spot: town center.

"We need disguises." Ford put a hand to Stan's shoulder, who was obviously uncomfortable and thinking.  
"For once, Sixer, I think you're right. Those triangle buildings don't look like nothin' good."  
_  
It didn't take them long. Right after Ford had suggested disguises, the two had dirtied up their faces with muck and dirt (Stan had suggested this; said "a little dirt don't hurt nobody", and Ford agreed even though the grammar was wrong) using scarves and hoods to cover their mouths and hair, and used night vision goggles to hide their eyes. Ford had memorable eyes, to say the least; each of them were amber with green swirled beautifully in the center. Stan was always a little jealous about that. Not only was Ford a brilliant, six-fingered freak, but he had some of the most unique eyes too. When would he get a break? Stan was the twin of a genius and that was hard enough, because he was already a screw up that everyone hated.

Stan straightened himself, strapping his gun back to his side as he glanced over at Ford. "This will do 'til we get something better, but make sure to lay low. I don't wanna bust you out of intergalactic prison and get 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 arrested." Stan was obviously teasing, scooping some stream water into his canteen, and Ford followed along to do the same.

"We should be fine, Stan. It'll take some rushing, but if you just follow me--" 

"Woah, me, follow you? Ain't I the leader here?" Stan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Ford looked a bit offended and slightly confused. 

"Of course you follow me. I'm the one with the tracking device, and my readings show that the rift is somewhere in that city! It gives an exact location. If we just run in there without knowing where we're going, it'll make our lives harder than they need to be. And not only that, rifts aren't open forever!" 

Ford didn't want to argue, but sometimes his brother hit a few nerves at the wrong times. Stan was always picking fights, at least in Ford's point of view. Whenever the two argued, it only started more problems instead of ending them, almost as if Stan enjoyed it somehow? He didn't know. With all the two had been through, with all Ford had studied, his brother was one of the hardest things to grasp and understand. Stan wasn't a subject that could just be studied and processed, Stan was a complicated human being filled with emotions, and difficulty, and utter confusion. If Ford were to write a report on his own twin brother, it would go on for ages and he still wouldn't get his point across. Stan is a confusing mess.

"Earth to Sixer?" Stan cocked a brow, tapping Ford lightly on the shoulder. Seems he had spaced out again; Stanley always took notice whenever it happened. "I'll follow you, but I'm still leader." 

"Whatever you say, Stanley, let's just get going. The signal is growing weak and I don't feel like traveling another four months to find another rift."

Ford took the lead with Stan following closely behind. The trip down the hill was oddly disorienting, with each step down feeling like they were somehow travelling back deeper and deeper in time, but eventually they neared the bottom and it felt less nauseating. 

Stan reached in his holster slowly, pulling out his-- 

"Keep your gun in the holster." 

A little shocked, Stan slipped the gun away again. Curse Ford and his excellent hearing. It was pure instinct for Stan. The last time he'd been in the face of a threat, he'd come so terrifyingly close to shooting someone. He never even felt bad about it. It was just survival, right? 

"You see anything?" Stanley asked quietly. 

"Buildings look like pyramids.. Streets are quite colorful, carpets and booths everywhere.. This must be that hotspot the farmer told me about. Dimension travelers from all over the multiverse come here for supplies.. spices, parts, food, relics.." Ford went on, listing some other items he could see faintly. 

"Oh, I taste an opportunity in our future." Stan grinned.

Ford glanced at Stan, brows raised and mouth agape as if he was going to counter, but he couldn't find the words. 𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴, Ford had thought, and, 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯, 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸.

It was pointless. Knowing Stan, he'd steal without even knowing it. Ford would just have to hope he hid it well enough so neither of them got caught. He couldn't afford prison; they didn't have much time.

Ford slid down the remainder of the hill, pushing his way carefully past a few tents and toward the center of a huge crowd. People were absolutely everywhere. Some were covered in fur, scales, robes and jackets, and skin of all different colors. There were so many tents and stands around, selling food, parts, body parts? It was like one of those fairs he remembered going to a lot as a kid, but much, 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 stranger.

"Guts! Guts! Get your guts here, step right up! I've got all kinds of bait. I've got traps and rope-- rope here, rope there, rope everywhere! Hell, tie yourself up for all I care!" A man yelled, sitting at a particularly yellow tent, triangular at the top. It made Ford hiss just thinking about it, but he tried to ignore it and kept pushing past. 

"You good there, Sixer?" Stan peeked over Ford's shoulder, just barely. He picked up on his brother's discomfort almost immediately. The guy did seem sketchy after all. He had a long beard braided all the way to his stomach, his eyes blinked sideways and were a bright, gleaming yellow, and he was grinning from ear to ear.

Ford wanted to throw up. He ignored Stan and kept walking, carefully weaseling his way through the crowd until he couldn't see the man anymore. He hadn't done anything wrong, but he reminded him too much of.. him.

"I'll take that as a no?" Stan's brows furrowed, but he sped up anyways. 

"His eyes.. Oh god, his eyes.." Ford said this quietly, too quietly. Even though he knew they were far enough and wouldn't be heard, he couldn't help it. The scientist had spent years being haunted by those eyes; he once trusted them, but he winced to think about those times. He was so foolish then. Stan would have known, surely! 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴.. 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦..

"-- and those too. How do they make 'em?" 

Oh. Stan was talking again. Listen to Stan.  
"Sorry, spaced out again," Ford stuttered, passing Stan a slow glance. Stan looked baffled, mid-sentence, but he was willing to repeat. 

"Oh, I was just talkin' about some of the things they're sellin'. Anti-gravity shoes? Who comes 𝘶𝘱 with these things? Might be pretty cool to fly though.." Stan forced a little chuckle, but his attention was back on Ford. "So, what's on your mind? I can see the smoke comin' outta yer ears."

"It's nothing, Stan," Ford said, still deadpanned, "let's just keep going."


	2. Cutting corners, making shortcuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things got... weird. Maybe Ford was thinking a bit too hard about it, but he wasn't going to take any chances. The golden-eyed man couldn't possibly make him feel any worse. Find the rift, get out. That's all the two needed to do, right?

Stan couldn't say another word before he was quickly following behind Ford again. He didn't want to push the issue further. He understood Ford's side of things; being terrified and paranoid of a creature with the ability to be almost anywhere, possessing anyone it-- no, 𝘩𝘦 wanted to, Stan could understand. 

He wished he could help Ford, but he was too scared to. He had spent years taking care of his own problems, whether it was drinking until he couldn't feel the pain weighing heavy on his chest, or lying to himself and saying he was fine, that he was okay. Stan knew it was hard to help someone else when all you did was lie to yourself for years on end just to survive. All he could think to do was change the conversation-- or even worse, bottle it up and let it sit.

Stan gripped the collar of his camouflage jacket, almost as if he was attempting to hide in it. It smelled like sweat and blood; it was a smell he'd grown fond of recently. Running, fighting tooth and nail to protect Ford, trying to find a way out of this mess. His mind was flooded with thoughts, some good some bad. 

He was so deep in his thoughts that he could hardly hear a disgusting, slow 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘱 from behind him. 

After a moment of walking, Ford picked up into a jog, and then a full on sprint. He knocked over pedestrians and racks that held clothes and various other items. Stan almost wanted to ask why, but he didn't have to. The yelling behind them made it clear enough. 

The guy from earlier, golden eyes and gnarled expression, fingers dripping blue with blood and a few of them seemed to be growing back (it looked horrible, like tendrils of flesh were stretching and pulling the wounds closed in only seconds), a switchblade swinging in his right hand-- he was 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 them. He was shouting various things that wouldn't have made sense if the brothers hadn't picked up some alien swears here and there. There were, however, a few Stan didn't understand. They didn't sound like any phrases he had ever heard get thrown out in a fit of rage.

Stan felt a rush of the kind of adrenaline he hadn't felt in a long, long time. 𝘎𝘶𝘯, he thought, repeating the words in his head over and over, 𝘎𝘶𝘯! 𝘗𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘯! 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶!

Stan's hand lingered over his holster, and in one swift motion, he pulled it out and-- 

Ford had already grabbed his wrist, yanking him into an alley. It made Stan cry out in surprise and confusion, and he wanted to complain about how close he was to taking care of it, but Ford's face shut him up immediately. 

"Bull," Ford murmured. He hated to use the nickname, but they couldn't exactly say each other's real names in public. It wasn't like anyone could hear them, but it was a precautionary measure. They weren't out in the woods anymore.  
"I know a shortcut. We have to hurry. If you shoot-- he.. it won't kill him."

"Wh-- what are you talking about? I had him right there! He was as good as-" 

"You don't understand." Ford simply shook his head. He didn't have time to explain. He was lucky the yelling had momentarily stopped, but it wouldn't be long until their pursuer realized where they had gone. He yanked Stan over to a metal chain link fence behind some dumpsters, pulling his body over it with ease.   
"Just follow me."  
__

After the two were clear over the fence, Ford had made it evident how truly paranoid he was. He'd glance over his shoulder as they walked through an even darker part of town, jumping every once in a while when he saw Stan there. Had he forgotten about Stan, or was he too afraid to register the fact that his brother was in fact following him?

Whatever it was, it was growing annoying. Ford wouldn't even say where they were going until they reached what *looked* like a dead end. He had his tracker out, which he referred to as the IRT(Interdimensional Rift Tracker), and he seemed to be calibrating it.

𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵, Stan grumbled to himself, glaring at the wall,   
𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸.  
But Ford wasn't sharing the same defeat and annoyance that Stan was. In fact, he was approaching the wall and.. Phasing through it? 

"What the--" Stan blabbered, thoroughly confused. 

"It isn't a solid wall," Ford murmured, already on the other side of this "wall", or whatever it was. "I'm afraid it's just a hologram. I've come across these before. Remember the flickering waterfall we came across last week?" 

"Holograms. So how did you know 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 wasn't just a normal ole stinkin' wall?"

"Well, for starters," Ford hummed in thought, waiting as Stan joined him on the other side before he continued to speak in a whisper, "ever since we got here, I've been hearing this strange static sound coming from the IRT, and at first I thought it was just me. You didn't seem to hear it. Then again, it was nearly identical to the sound that waterfall made, as if it was a radio or a tv of some sort. My tracker has been picking up the signals like crazy, and that's how I followed them here. Another hologram."

"Yeah, I don't understand. But how much closer are we to the.. You know..?" Stan blinked, looking around at everything. It looked the same as earlier, oddly enough. There were tents and booths, small (admittedly strange looking) vehicles littering the sidewalks with those strange, cone-shaped buildings all around. But that man from earlier, he was nowhere to be seen. 

"We shouldn't be too far from it now. I needed you to follow me so we could lose him first." Ford started walking again. As calm as he tried to act, his shoulders were still pinched up to his ears, his eyes were still as wide an alert as before. 

He couldn't tell Stan, but he had a feeling he knew exactly what that man was out for. A bounty hunter sent out by Bill, or even one of his direct henchmen out to capture them. The fact that he cut off his own fingers was.. Odd. Maybe his blood was toxic. For all Ford knew, with how unpredictable Bill and his pawns could get, he probably did have toxic blood. Gross..

Now that he thought about it, it could have very well been a threat. Fingers were a sensitive thing. If that man knew it was Ford, and he truly was sent out by Bill, then he'd know about the extra finger on each hand. That was terrifying to think about.

𝘕𝘰, Ford thought, shaking his head, 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘞𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

The glittery, ribbon-like tear was hard to miss. Stan was the first to see it, perched on the wall of a monument in town center. It was a statue, depicting a three-headed man and a dog-like creature to his right, holding some odd tablet in his arm, clasped to his chest. It sat on a large column, high and proud, looking over the rest of the city with dark, stony eyes. Stan shook his head, tugging Ford closer.

The poor scientist was exhausted, and the way he dragged his feet made that clear. But even more than he was exhausted, he was horrified. The image of that man cutting off his fingers still lingered in the back of his mind, but he didn't voice it. Instead, he let himself be dragged along as he braced himself for another hop. 

"Ladies first?" Stan tried, a half-smile tugging at his lips. It was clear he was attempting to lighten the mood, but it didn't work as well as he would have liked.

Ford grumbled and rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath as he neared the rift. It was like a vacuum, pulling him in at a dizzying speed he couldn't even begin to imagine. And with that, the two were off.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time using this website, so please bear with me! I split the first few parts in sections, and as you've probably noticed, parts are "missing". This is on purpose, so don't worry. I hope it isn't too confusing at all.


End file.
